


Form-fitting

by Rhaized



Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [1]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clothes Shopping, F/F, Fashion à la mode, Flirting, Kissing, Mary is shy and Marisa knows it, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: According to Marisa, Mary is in dire need of a new wardrobe. Mary allows Marisa to take her shopping, which gets her a little hot and bothered.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073954
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Form-fitting

Mary was not one to be  _ à la mode. _ She led a simple life as a university scientist, dressing for comfort and the bare minimum of professionalism. For Mary, throwing on a wrinkled blazer over an equally-wrinkled shirt was dressy enough for her purposes of sitting behind a computer all day or else teaching for an hour four times a week. Her clothes usually ran pretty big, too, as she ordered online a lot and she thought it was always safer for clothes to be too big than too small. 

Marisa, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She'd come into Mary's life like a wrecking ball and left behind her a trail of new this and new that every which way she turned. New drapes, new pillows, new coasters, new towels; new bedding, new makeup, new cutlery, new office decor. And now, it seemed, was the time for a completely new wardrobe. 

"I don't  _ want  _ a new wardrobe, though," Mary complained as they drove over to the mall. Marisa was driving, as she needed to practice. She knew vaguely how to drive from her world but needed more practical experience here in Mary's. "My clothes are fine."

"Darling, they are  _ not  _ fine," Marisa insisted. The golden monkey hissed his agreement from the backseat. "I saw one of your dress shirts in your closet the other day and wanted to vomit. It was  _ such  _ an ugly shade of orange that would look  _ hideous  _ with your hair."

Mary stiffened at that, as it was a shirt her sister had given her for Christmas a few years back. It was one of the nicer ones she owned as it was silk and came from a higher-end store. Clothes were meant to be practical, in Mary's mind: warm for the cold months, airy for the summer months, and a step up from casual for academic conferences and teaching. She was aware of other considerations, like the  _ season  _ or the  _ degree of formality,  _ but she simply didn't care. 

"The clothes you wear determine how people see you," Marisa insisted as they turned off the road into the parking lot. She hit a curb and Mary groaned, clutching the bottom of her seat. She glanced back at the golden monkey to make sure he was alright (Mary thought he looked a little queasy). "You're a  _ professional,  _ Mary. You run a department. You advise students. You're one of the foremost experts in the world on shadow matter. You need to  _ dress  _ like it."

Mary was touched, to hear Marisa say that. She didn't at all see herself in that light. It was perhaps because it all felt mundane to her as her boring, everyday life. It still felt new and exciting to Marisa, though, which Mary could understand. She was still getting used to what women in this world could do. 

The mall was another thing Marisa was still growing used to, and that wasn't quite up to her standards. They'd stopped at Westgate, which was a good enough mall with a wide assortment of stores and options. But apparently it didn't compare to whatever Marisa had in her London. 

"This is what we've got, is it?" Marisa tutted as they walked inside. She was wearing a light tan overcoat over a pair of navy blue pants and a soft blue blouse. She looked like a vision straight out of a 1950s movie next to Mary, who wore a pair of baggy blue jeans and a long-sleeved baseball t-shirt. 

How did they even get together, Mary sometimes wondered? Truly and sincerely? They were such polar opposites in so many ways. It was almost comical. 

"Let's try here," Mary sighed, heading into the nearest store. Marisa followed her and let out little utterances of displeasure as they walked by mannequins and display cases. She carried the monkey in her dark brown handbag, and Mary saw him peek out every now to get a glimpse of all the objects. Marisa stopped to examine a perfume set by the makeup, spritizing some on her wrist before lifting it to her nose. Mary stopped and waited for her. She then rolled her eyes as Marisa grimaced. 

"It's too strong," Marisa said to her as she caught her eye. 

"Okay, Marisa."

"Take me to the women's clothing now." Marisa settled into a peaceable stroll beside Mary as they made their way to the end of the store and over to the women's section. Marisa immediately flocked over to a selection of dresses, which were tailored to the season and up to date with the most stylish of fashions (at least Mary assumed). 

"You need clothes that accentuate the most appealing parts of your body," Marisa was saying, her fingers sifting through different dresses on the rack. "You want them to be more  _ form-fitting _ than you usually wear."

"How do I know what's most 'appealing'?" Mary asked. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Appealing how? And to  _ whom?  _ As a lesbian she hated the idea of appealing to  _ men  _ and all of  _ their  _ preferences and fantasies. It was terrible, how so much of what women did was in one way or another in the service of appealing to men. The issue of men aside, Mary knew that different kinds of clothing looked differently on people, but she wasn't expert enough to know exactly  _ how.  _ She supposed she could take measurements, and maybe the internet could tell her what to do. But she was never any good at that stuff. Most of her clothes were baggy and hid her figure (partially on purpose, she only now just realized). 

"You let someone who is attracted to you tell you," Marisa answered with a smirk. Mary felt her heart flutter at that as she looked at the other woman from the corner of her eye. She was still busy rifling through dresses, but her face looked utterly amused. If the golden monkey were out in the open, Mary bet that she'd be able to see him gazing at her, too, revealing more of what Marisa was  _ actually  _ and  _ sincerely  _ feeling and thinking. 

"It's your chest, by the way," Marisa offered after a few more beats, voice perfectly calm and casual. "You wouldn't know it over your clothes, but they're  _ quite  _ round and full."

Mary flushed a deep, revealing red. She also glanced around and panicked as she saw an older woman standing not too far away from them. So she shushed Marisa and moved away from her as she went over to a row of short-sleeved blouses. 

"What size pants do you usually wear?" Marisa asked after several more minutes of rustling through clothes. They ended up at the dress clothes section, which was perhaps most important for Mary and her line of work. 

"Uh, mediums, usually. I think."

"Try this," Marisa said, her eyes sparkling as she handed a pair of pants sized small. 

"I don't think they'll fit," Mary returned. 

"Just trust me," Marisa breathed, stepping closer. Her eyes flitted down toward Mary's waist. "Go put them on."

Mary obeyed and came back pleasantly surprised. It was much tighter than she usually wore, but it still _fit._ She bent down and didn't feel any resistance in the fabric. It was incredible, really, albeit a bit strange given what she was used to wearing. 

"Look at you," Marisa mused as Mary walked out. Her blue eyes danced in the fluorescent lighting as Mary came out to show her. "How do they feel?" 

"Tight," Mary admitted, pausing to look at herself in one of the full-length mirrors. It was ridiculous how her shirt was so baggy and these dress pants were so tight. They were black with little white stripes. The fabric clung to her skin and she saw the actual shape of her legs, instead of the mere  _ impression  _ of them as she so often did with her pants. 

"Try  _ hot,"  _ came Marisa's voice, suddenly very close to her ear. Then, quite suddenly, Mary felt a slap to her behind. 

_ "Marisa!"  _ Mary let out, flushing hotly as she moved to look around them. They were in the public waiting area, for crying out loud! No one was around this time (thankfully), and Marisa let out a little giggle before sitting back down. 

"Try on that sweater I picked for you," Marisa demanded next, crossing her legs and sitting straight with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Mary thought she heard a chuckle from her handbag, too. "I want to see how your breasts look." 

_ "God!"  _ Mary let out, eyes searching around them, and again Marisa simply laughed, shooing Mary away toward the dressing room. 

The sweater was equally as tight, leaving no extra fabric hanging around Mary's midriff section. It wasn't that it looked  _ bad,  _ Mary supposed as she sauntered out to examine herself in the wider mirror out there. Marisa had picked her out a navy sweater, which complemented her red hair as well as brought out the blue of her eyes. Mary felt impressed, in spite of herself and her embrasement. It really did suit her better than the orange chemise her sister had gotten her. 

"Lovely," Marisa drawled from her seat. Mary didn't need to look at her to know she was smiling again, likely hungrily. She heard the woman get up and heard her heels click. "Let me take a look at you."

Mary turned to see the woman's eyes carefully inspecting her chest, neck, and sides. She knew what she was doing, it seemed, as she tilted her head to the side and her eyes flickered back and forth. She then came closer to her and put her hands on Mary's sides. "Is it loose enough for you here?" 

"Yes," Mary practically choked, feeling her mouth run a bit dry as Marisa patted her sides, hands lingering before they started moving  _ up _ . 

"And here?" Marisa asked, smugness tucked away in her eyes as she gazed at Mary and cupped the side of her breasts.  _ God.  _ Mary really couldn't breathe now. All she felt was a tight sensation grip her heart at Marisa's gentle yet incinerating touch. 

"It feels good," Mary let out, looking down to stare at Marisa's hands. The other woman snickered but kept her hands there, applying just the  _ tiniest  _ amount of pressure 

"Excellent," Marisa said. Mary worked up the nerve to meet her eyes and found unadulterated delight flickering back at her. "I think you look simply divine. But don't take my word for it." She let go, finally, and then headed toward the end of the little viewing area, sticking her head out in the aiseway. "Excuse me, sir?" 

Mary whipped around, eyes widened in horror as Marisa called out to a young man passing by. Mary's ears started burning as he stopped and Marisa turned to him, an easy smile on her face. "May we ask for your friendly opinion? My friend here is freshening up her wardrobe. How do you think she looks?" 

This was cruel. As Marisa turned back over to her, Mary knew that she  _ knew  _ how upsetting this was to Mary. The man blinked and then looked at her, shyly eyeing her up and down. It was  _ awful.  _ Mary wanted to break something (and probably looked like it). He seemed embarrassed to do so, probably because of the daggers she was glaring at him and also because she was at least fifteen years older than him. But he murmured a quick "looking good" before nodding to Marisa and speeding away. 

"You're vile," Mary spat at her, turning around to flee back into the changing room. But just as she turned to push the lock, the door opened and Marisa squeezed into the stall with her, closing the lock behind her. 

"I'm sorry," she pouted. She was standing very, very close to Mary. There was hardly enough room in there enough for one person, really, let alone  _ two.  _ Their chests were brushing and their noses only an inch or two apart. Mary felt her breath catch at their mere proximity, feeling Marisa's entire presence completely consume her. 

"You're insufferable," Mary insisted, although she felt her entire body soften and lean into her. 

"I know." Marisa smiled. Her eyes searched Mary's then as she moved her hand to cup the left side of Mary's face. "Forgive me?" 

Mary found it just a little hard to breathe again, with Marisa's hand so softly resting on her cheek and her eyes glistening at her and her perfume wafting all around her. 

"I need to take this off now," Mary protested, moving away a bit (even though she didn't want to). 

"Good," said Marisa, and she sneered, her eyes lowering to Mary's chest. "I can help with that."

And then their mouths were glued together as Marisa pressed her body against Mary's. Mary  _ gasped  _ as Marisa ground her hips against hers. It was violent, almost  _ sinful  _ the way her hips moved up as she continued to assault Mary's mouth with hers. Mary barely had time to process what was happening. And then she felt Marisa's fingers slip under her sweater, and then their mouths parted briefly as Marisa pulled the shirt over Mary's head and slipped it out of her arms. 

As Mary leaned to go in again, however, Marisa arched back, holding the sweater up in front of her. 

"This will do, then?" she asked Mary sweetly, as if they  _ weren't  _ smashed together in a fitting room. 

"Y-yes," Mary stuttered, gawking as Marisa nodded and then flung the sweater over her arm. 

"Good," Marisa replied, a tight smile curving her lips. "Try on the rest now. I'll be waiting outside to see." 

_ What was that? _ Mary wondered as Marisa pulled away and then exited the stall, out as quickly as she'd arrived. This whole entanglement lasted not even a full minute. Had she simply imagined it? 

That's how it was with Marisa, Mary found, sighing as she turned back to the pile and slipped on a turquoise button-up chemise. It was more in line with Marisa's style than hers, but still so incredibly gorgeous and lithe. It was  _ form-fitting, _ as Marisa had described. 

Form-fitting. The kind of wardrobe Mary never imagined but apparently now was going to get whether she liked it or not. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't stop writing about them. My gosh! Random idea that materialized in my head (on Christmas Day, no less). 
> 
> Also: since I seem to be writing so many of these, I thought I’d place them in a new series dedicated to Mary and Marisa being smart science lady girlfriends together in Mary's world :)


End file.
